I love getting hit on at a bar as much as the next girl. It’s very flattering to have a guy go out of his way to show interest in you. I know it takes a lot of courage to approach a stranger in a vulnerable situation like that, and kudos to any man who has mastered the technique. In my opinion, honesty is always the best policy when it comes to approaching women in a bar-like setting. Go up to her, say hi, and deliver a genuine compliment. Done. Easy peasy. But, oh, the cheesy pick-up lines are endlessly more entertaining. The ones that emulate phoniness, that you can smell coming from a mile away, and then, when they finally arrive, feel greasy and make your face cringe. Even the most over-used, under-creative, “baby, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” pick-up line is more palatable than what happened to me at The Bedford last night.

Me in the vault at The Bedford with the infamous curly hair

My friends and I were invited to Time Out’s 100 Best Party by the VP of Marketing, who we had met a few months back. We knew him fairly well, and had met a couple of his friends at other events. They are older than us, and a slightly awkward, in a kind of cute, borderline pathetic sort of way. We spent most of the night downing free drinks and scouring the room for passed hors d’oeuvres, while the gentlemen calculated the perfect moment to approach our table to say hi. It took them about an hour to accumulate enough liquid courage to make the move.

Said VP’s friend was the first to journey into the lionesses’ den. Let’s call him Toby. Poor Toby; he was drunk, didn’t remember our names even though he had met us multiple times (it’s okay because we didn’t remember his name either) and could barely stay seated on the stool. We made simple small talk, mostly about the VP/host of the party, who had yet to acknowledge our presence at the event he invited us to. Then it happened, the strangest thing that has ever happened to me at a bar. Continue reading